


Walk Into the Steppe Late with Starbucks like

by issaMorg



Series: Amasar's [Mis]Adventures in Eorza [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amasar comes back home and is not happy to hear what people have planned, Au Ra Xaela Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Author Using KonMari | Marie Kondo Method on Canon, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Like it'll be close to canon but we're going off roading for a bit, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Multiple Warriors of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Non Warrior of Light OC, The Steppe MSQ does not bring the author joy, an entire xaela tribe worth of ocs, so we're changing that, thank you tag wranglers I'm not exactly making your life easy, xaela culture exploration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/issaMorg/pseuds/issaMorg
Summary: Warriors of Light AmasarBulqasarHimaa and Nijoh'ir Jeshyo go to the Azim Steppe to retrieve a wayward Doman Prince.Naturally, nothing goes to plan.
Series: Amasar's [Mis]Adventures in Eorza [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412659
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> If you like the Steppe MSQ you might not want to read this. Gonna play with canon and this is purely how my warrior of light Amasar interpreted the events in Stormblood!
> 
> He was not happy with what the Scions and Domans had to say about it. I will be reacting with what my Warrior of Light thought about what they had to say as having been a Warrior of the Steppe before Stormblood.
> 
> As always, Nijoh'ir and Ra belong to [MooncatEclipse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfgrowl/pseuds/MooncatEclipse) and anything written in italics and surrounded by the greater than and less than symbols are in Old Auri/Language of the Steppe.

It was dreary, the rain a torrent that wouldn't abate, but Amasar's spirits would not be dampened by the foul weather.

It was humid, wet, and miserable, but nothing could stop his elation.

 _He was_ **_home._ **

He couldn't help the grin that split his face as he ran from the cave system they'd been stuck in for days- standing in the rain and facing the heavens.

Home, how he'd missed it. Missed _this_.

He turned in excitement, watching as the rest of the group left the mouth of the cave, Yugiri less phased than Lyse, Gosetsu, and Nijoh'ir at the sights.

" _ <Welcome to my home,> _" Amasar said with a grin, arms stretched to the sides as he looked back to the group.

Oki took this opportunity to trot over to Amasar, the cavalry drake butting at him and grumbling a question. The Himaa laughed, pulling himself onto her back with practiced ease- "meet you back at Reunion! Nijoh'ir, follow me!"

The miqo'te grinned, whistling for Fenrir and hopping on the massive hoarhound's back as it charged to his side. The cries of protest from the rest of the group were ignored as the two sped off, away from the trading town and into the Steppe proper.

The Dawn Throne was easily visible from this part of the steppe, even through the grey of the rain, the structure climbing high above the rest of the steppe's hills and rocky outcroppings. For all they found themselves superior, the Oronir were very good at what they did- no matter how each member chose to apply themselves.

Still, Amasar let Oki run as fast as she wished along the new terrain, Fenrir easily keeping pace and allowing Nijoh'ir's gaze to wander over the various forms of life in the Steppe. Oh there were shepherds with their flocks of sheep, the occasional horse ferrying some au ra going about their business, but still there were others. The occasional Yol bearing a warrior flew overhead, the eagles and other birds that usually joined them tucked back into their homes in the mountaintops to avoid getting soaked. Amasar pointed out the local fauna as they passed- dzo, mammoths, chaochu, purbol, and baras- there were others, the arguably more difficult to spot, but those were relatively safer still.

He pointed out landmarks, the stories behind them, places the Himaa had been and stayed specifically; how this area had the best grass to let your sheep eat if you wanted your kumis to taste like-

It was evident the man was excited to share this with his best friend, and Nijoh'ir found the excitement infectious.

Around and around they went, Amasar continuing to tell Nijoh'ir about the land they traveled on as they slowly circled the dawn throne. The rain trickles to a halt as they cross the bridge before the throne, the Oronir looking at them with unmasked wariness, curiosity, and threats- it’s also in this moment that Nijoh'ir has a question. He waits until they've passed, before looking at Amasar, "possibly dumb question- why were they all wearing that _godsawful_ yellow and glaring at us more than we usually get?"

Amasar barked out a laugh, "that yellow is the color of the Oronir. They are the xaela children of the Sun, and they claim the color accordingly. Tribes are usually partial to one color or another for some meaning to them, and it makes it easy to spot ally from enemy over long distances."

Nijoh'ir nodded, it made enough sense- the Grand Companies worked under similar enough systems. "And the glares?"

Amasar shrugged, "not Oronir, and not wearing local clothing," he looked down at his outfit, face pulling into a bit of a disgruntled expression before continuing, "outsiders aren't trusted, I really should change…”

One overhang and gobbue body-blocking later (“Nobody will see anything Amasar.” “There’s nothing for anyone _to_ see, I just don’t want to be **_shot_ ** . Besides, if this thing sneezes on me I’m giving you the _biggest_ hug Nijoh’ir.”) Amasar was back into his more traditional clothing (“I guess I thought the shirt you were wearing, tattered with the no-sleeves? Was more...” “Fashion and intent behind it did not translate well. This is more casual.” "And the lime green?" "Himaa colors.") and they were heading the rest of the way to Reunion.

Coming into Reunion pulled a wave of nostalgia over Amasar, the sound of his native tongue being spoken by all, the smells of buuz- he was _home_.

It was easy for them to see where the others had awkwardly waited for them to return, meeting back with Yugiri, Gosetsu, and Lyse at the forefront of the city. The former understanding the desire to return home, and the latter confused as to why the sudden bolting. Answering the unspoken question with only a smile, the Warriors of Light got back to the task of finding Hien.

At least, they would have, had Lyse, Yugiri, and Gosetsu not immediately began speaking ill of his culture and people like he wasn't _right there_ . Or wondering why _their_ oppressors hadn't deigned to come take the Steppe when it would "be so easy."

And then _they_ went to look for Hien.

While he was technically supposed to join them, instead Amasar searched for something more important (well, to him anyway)- finding out what he'd missed while he was gone.

Oh Magnai was still Khagan, Oronir won once more with the Dotharl coming close again. Reunion had only gotten bigger and more established since he last came through. Good growing season for the plants, lead to some good, sturdy sheep this year.

He’d been talking around Reunion, "trying to figure out if anyone had seen Hien" trying to find where the Himaa were if anyone knew (but also stocking up on some of his favorite snacks, he still couldn’t get over the price for those sausages, and they were _spectacular-_ ) when he and Nijoh’ir were flagged down by a lone woman- finding kids? Easy enough, once you knew where to look.

Yet he ground to a halt when he saw the child by the edge of camp- some would think the color Oronir yellow, but…

Sinking into a crouch, he slunk over…

Over by the sheep pen, Nijoh'ir had just convinced and picked up the _very_ not-lost-at-all child that going to see the nice lady was a good idea and _yes_ you could pet his tail and touch his ears- when there was a child's shriek to the side.

Bolting over, the child on his shoulders laughed and flung her hands in the air as he went to investigate-

Only to see Amasar having picked up a young purple-haired boy, the kid laughing as the man held him and doted, " _ <\- at you! You've gotten so big! Your mother must be so proud of you, Udutai! Why, I'm sure you're taller than your brother by now, aren't you?> _"

"Uh, Amasar?" Nijoh'ir chimed in, ears flicking (causing the tiny auri girl on his shoulders to _gasp_ in amazement and try to play with the ear tips) "should we get them to the nice lady before..."

Amasar nodded, "right, right," he tucked the child under one arm, the lad positively wriggling with laughter as he tried to squirm free from the older xaela's hold, " _ <Nijoh'ir, this is my cousin Udutai. He and his twin try to be worse than Bulqadar and I were any day. Thankfully, they have not lived up to our chaos.> _"

Nijoh'ir nodded, ears flicking sporadically as the girl on his shoulders continued to try and catch them, " _ <nice to meet you, Udutai!> _"

Dropping the kids off with the nice lady went about as well as they expected- namely Udutai clung to Amasar's leg and the girl whose name none of them yet caught was _determined_ to catch the miqo'te's ears.

Amasar was able to get his cousin to let go, _promising_ he wasn't going to just 'leave forever' again. He just had to go grab the other cousin. Yes he'll hold him upside down for you.

Eventually freeing Nijoh'ir from the girl, they went looking for the last boy together, finding him on the hill overlooking the village.

There was a hyur here, too, but Amasar was more focused on 'roaring like a fearsome beast' and flipping the wayward twin upside-down as his brother had requested.

The boy squealed happily, cries of " _ <cousin Amadar!> _" and peals of laughter abound. Wiggling and trying to flip himself back the way he should be, laughing at the challenge and elation of seeing his cousin again.

The steppe warrior held the child out at arm's length, " _ <you've gotten taller, too, Buyantu! Look at you! I bet you're well on your way to beating your dad when you wrestle-> _" he fawned, walking past the one very confused hyur while Nijoh'ir looked from him to Amasar, shrugging at the hyur before following the xaela back down the hill.

At the base of the hill they dropped the boy off, twins climbing Amasar as he smiled apologetically at the woman trying to corral them. They threw more questions at him than he could feasibly answer, and that's how they saw the Mol? But Mol were red not pink? Girl having trouble at the stall.

Listening to her explain her side (definitely Mol) the two agreed to help get her what the man running the stall needed, prying the children off and promising that they’d be right back with the roots. Yes you can pet the hound and look at the drake later.

To the two of them, slaying the beasts was easy enough. One baits the attention and dances out of their attacks while the other chips away until they have their prize. They only needed to knock down two of the dholes to get what they needed. Not much you can do with a dhole when it’s dead, but these would be fine. Not old enough to be useful in a yurt at any rate.

Bringing the roots back to the very pink xaela, they see her speaking with the rest of the group- apparently she knew where Hien was?

And apparently Amasar had walked right past him earlier, when retrieving his cousins.

Hien was… somber when he first spoke, asking whether his people wanted his head or his blade. Amasar could respect how he was willing to do whatever his people needed of him, truly, but…

But then he spoke of his plan. Of using the Naadam to turn _Amasar’s own people_ into an army. Amasar felt his expression fall into a blank mask, Nijoh’ir looking up and seeing the displeasure on the Himaa’s face for what it is. Amasar looked back to the hyur, “you’re staying with the Mol, yes?”

“Yes, they’ve been quite hospitable-”

“Good. Nijoh’ir? We’re leaving.”

The miqo’te nodded, ears pinned back as the two headed back down the hill. The party looked from one another before Yugiri followed after them. “Amasar, Nijoh’ir, one moment-”

“No, Yugiri,” Amasar sighed, “I’m home. I want to see my family, and I don’t want any part of this plan to _use my people as_ **_pawns_ **.”

She shook her head, “it’s truly not like that, Amasar-”

“Isn’t it? I don’t think you realize,” Amasar glares as he stalks back toward the ninja, “ _precisely_ what implications there are. If _he_ ,” Amasar points back up toward where the Doman prince sits, “wins the Naadam? Becomes the Khagan? The warriors _won’t_ **_have_ ** _a choice_ . Warriors of the Steppe obey their Khagan, our obedience is the Khagan’s right as the strongest of us all. If Hien is Khagan and asks us to battle? It’s not a question. The illusion of choice is just that- an _illusion_.”

The steppe warrior shook his head, “no, I will have no part of this plan. I’m going home, back to _my_ people.”

With that he walks back down the hill, Nijoh’ir following but shooting a disgusted look over his shoulder as he went. “ _ <How could they even think something like that,> _ ” the miqo’te finds himself putting words to his disgust, “< _to bring in an entirely new group of people into this conflict? > _”

Amasar barks a humorless laugh, “ _ <you heard Lyse and Yugiri, we’re nothing but Savages fighting amongst ourselves, something too savage for Garleans to bother taking over. A land not made for men,> _” he scoffs, the words bitter as ash on his tongue. 

They continued in silence, the cloud over them quick to blow away as they come back around to see Amasar's cousins hanging off a fully grown man, the auri humoring the children as they whined that, "Amadar said he'd be _right back_ we can't leave without him, how will he find us again?" and "he was just _here_ , Dad! He just went up the hill!"

Amasar couldn't help but laugh at the scene, his uncle doing a double take upon seeing him. Delbeg's jaw dropped as the kids ran back to their cousin and started climbing him instead. Amasar picked them both up, the kids hanging limply and giggling madly where he holds them tucked under his arms like sacks of grain.

" _ <Uncle Delbeg, this is Nijoh'ir,> _ " Amasar introduced, gesturing to the Miqo'te who waves politely, " _ <Nijoh'ir this is my uncle Delbeg, twin brother to the Khan of the Himaa. He also likes boortsog almost as much as you do.> _"

The pale purple au ra across from them huffed a laugh, " _ <if he truly matches me then we may be in trouble yet. Welcome home, Amasar. It's good to meet you, Nijoh'ir. > _"

The group walks past the kind Mol girl, Amasar frowning and stopping, putting his cousins down and shooing them after his uncle, “ _ <I’m sorry we can’t get him to leave- he’s adamant in his goal. I’ll do my best to keep him from achieving it, but Magnai has been Khagan for years. Hien has to get through him, and Sadu on top of myself and everyone else- not to mention he’s not even a warrior of the Steppe.> _”

Her brow furrowed and she fiddled with her hands, “ _ <perhaps…> _”

Amasar smiled softly at her, placing a kind hand on her shoulder, “ _ <it all depends on the will of the gods, does it not? We can only do so much, but we do what we can. I will not see the Steppe fall to him.> _”

She smiled, “ _ <thank you for your kind words, it is as you said. Does this mean…> _”

“ _ <They are likely to impose on your kindness a little longer. Hopefully Bardam’s Mettle will deter them and they’ll seek alternative methods,> _” with that Amasar and Nijoh’ir waved, jogging lightly to catch up to where his uncle was putting the twins on a steady mare just outside the settlement, another horse loaded with supplies to the side.

Amasar chuckled as he approached her, her ears swiveling to focus on him for a brief moment before going back to her resting position. Yes, he knew this mare well- she was the one they had troublemakers ride since she had little interest in detours. Softly he pets her nose, her ears pricking forward as she nudgess into his hand. He knew she was looking for some sort of treat, he and Bulqadar would lavish them upon her for her cooperation.

After all, he and Bulqadar had been saddled on this mare many a time in their youth. They still managed to get up to no good, their mother blaming their father for the Noykin tendencies.

“ _ <I don't have a horse you can use,> _ ” his Uncle began with a grimace, “ _ <my plan had been to buy supplies, pack the horse, and lead the boys home on my Yol. We can come back with additional horses if need be?> _”

Amasar waved his concerns off, “ _ <we have options for mounts, don't worry,> _ ” Amasar soothed, Nijoh'ir nodding. The two whistled, two answering _‘kweh’_ and two vastly different growls responding as two chocobos, the hoarhound, and the cavalry drake charged over. The alarm of the Qestir had been soothed somewhat when they left the mounts outside, but Delbeg and the boys hadn't had a chance to see any of these up close. The boys almost fell off the mare in their stretching to reach out to pet the chocobos once Amasar and Nijoh'ir vouched for Sunflight and Ayde’s disposition.

Amasar hopped on Oki, and Nijoh'ir on Fenrir, " _ <They'll follow without issue, just lead the way.> _"

His uncle nodded, whistling for his Yol. The bird swooped from the heavens, landing just long enough for his uncle to leap atop its back before it took to the skies once more.

The horses set a firm pace, easily trained to keep up with the mounted warriors. Oki and Fenrir had some difficulty- not in the terms of keeping up speed, but instead the lack of familiarity with terrain. Ayde and Sunflight kept pace (with Ayde having to be called back after trying to go fight some Chaochu), and the further Amasar and Nijoh'ir got from Hien and his idea, the happier he was.

Soon enough he saw the lime green banners in the distance, a smile splitting his face as he saw the people he grew up with so long ago. Spurring Oki forward, the drake growled a happy note and sped past the horses.

The steeds shyed to the side, the twins keeping the beasts from bolting, but nothing could stop Amasar from speeding toward the camp as soon as he could. 

Warriors gawked as the unknown beast that was Oki charged past them, leaping out of the way as her mouth sparked and flames licked past her snout. Amasar laughed as they took a double take, catching the lime green but not entirely sure who the blue man on it was.

He zipped around, looking for one particular yurt and crowing in delight as he found it. Oki slid to a halt, Amasar vaulting off her and dropping his katana and whip as he burst through the heavy cloth curtain and startled the woman by the stove in the middle.

" _ <MOM,> _" he yelled, crossing to scoop her up into a big hug and squeezing as she squawked and slapped his shoulder.

That's what Nijoh'ir, Delbeg, and Amasar's father walked into when they trailed in not too long after, Amasar's mom lecturing him as he grinned, still holding her off the ground in a hug.

" _ <Masgud,> _ " his mother begins as she turns to his father, " _ <do you see our son. Gone for months- over a year, even- and not once does he mention they don't feed my boy!> _"

" _ <Mooom,> _ " he grumbles, finally putting her down to rub the back of his neck, " _ <I've not been doing my best, either-> _"

" _ <His depression meals are lemons,> _ " Nijoh'ir points out, gesturing to Amasar, " _ <I can only do so much.> _"

" _ <Hey, I try. I can cook when it's the two of us!> _"

" _ <You have gotten better, recently, I'll say that. That we had to worry about being poisoned was a very good reason to pick up cooking again.> _"

Amasar winced and his family stared **hard** at the au ra, "I uh. Hadn't. Told them that, Nijoh'ir."

"Whoops."

"Poisoned," his mother stated, Amasar looking anywhere but her, " _ <you get _ **poisoned** _and don't think to tell your family? > _"

" _ <Mom,> _" he began, explanation stopping at her barked reprimand.

" _ <Don't interrupt me, young man, I'm not done,> _ " she waits long enough for him to mutter an apology before she continues, " _ <you've spoken of these Scions before. Of how they would ask and ask and ask of you and your friend,> _ " she pauses, taking a minute to look at Nijoh'ir, " _ <thank you for keeping him safe. Without your friendship…> _ " she trails off, a frown and stormy look clouding her expression. Shaking her head, she looks back to Amasar, " _ <they give you no time to eat, let alone sleep, and they let you get poisoned? Did they at least help you?> _"

Amasar and Nijoh'ir make eye contact over her head, the expression they make drawing a yelled curse from his mother, " _ <those _ **_cowards_ ** _! If I were to meet them- > _"

" _ <Peace, Ghoa,> _ " Masgud says, coming to pull his wife into a hug as she seethes, " _ <Amasar is safe now. He’s alive, and he’s home. Is this for good, Amasar?> _”

Amasar hummed, “ _ <I’d love it to be, but I can't promise that. I’ll do the best I can, but…> _”

His father nodded, “ _ <then we will do the best we can with the time we have. Go see your uncle, you need to formally report your findings. News will spread of your return in the meantime.> _”

Amasar laughed, “ _ <like Udutai and Buyantu haven't been telling anyone with a horn to listen. Still, I do need to ask uncle Baatu his blessing for Nijoh'ir and Ra to stay.> _”

With that the two youngest of the group left the yurt, Amasar starting to hum some tune and Nijoh'ir picking it up. Retrieving their weapons, Amasar waved at those who eyed Oki with no small amount of suspicion, though at seeing the beast belonged to Amasar there was at least one eye roll. Of course he would have such an odd creature. 

Nijoh'ir retrieved Fenrir, and then Amasar lead their mounts and chocobos to where the horses were penned. The horse birds went in with the actual horses, while Fenrir and Oki were left outside the pens, the two well behaved enough to leave any particularly skittish horse alone, and not to stray too far.

From there Amasar lead them to his uncle’s yurt, where the tribe officially received their guests. Where his uncle Delbeg was a pale purple, his twin Baatu was a darker, more vivid purple. The Khan of the Himaa had dark purple hair as his twin did, though streaks of black shot through it. Baatu’s blue eyes were intense, and Amasar was glad they had never been directed at him with sincere anger. Even now he could see the mirth in his eyes, Baatu’s face and body language telling little of his emotions otherwise. It's what made him such an effective Khan- well, that and his level head under even intense pressure.

Either way, there was his uncle, and his cousin besides. A grin split Amasar’s face as he walked up behind the archer, clapping a hand on his shoulder and ignoring the surprised jump, “ _ <good to see you again, cousin!> _”

The red man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and groaning, “ _ <you couldn't give me just a week more, Amasar? One more week without you?> _”

Amasar daintily placed a hand on his chest in mock-offense, “ _ <I’m wounded, cousin- injured, betrayed, wounded. No joy in Amadar’s return, halgai herder?> _”

Khaidai looked to the sky, frustration evident in his frame, “ _ <I did not-> _”

“ _ <As fun as it is bothering you,> _ ” Amasar interrupted what he was sure would be a riveting reply, “ _ <I do need to speak with your father. With Nijoh’ir. Without you. Goodbye.> _”

The red man scoffed, rolled his eyes, but left all the same. Amasar watched him go, “ _ <Uncle Baatu, I have no idea how your son is like that.> _ Arrogant ass,” Amasar grumbles the last bit, loud enough for Nijoh’ir to hear and acknowledge with a flick of his ear.

The Khan of the Himaa sighed, “ _ <Amasar, he has grown significantly since you were both children- as have you. Can you not let the past be the past?> _”

Amasar hummed, “ _ <I can try, but who would I be if I didn’t tease him about it?> _”

Long having learned which battles to fight, Baatu sighed once more and instead broached the new topic, “ _ <you wanted to talk? I’m assuming I know what you wish, but ask all the same.> _”

Amasar nodded, “ _ <I’m here to report what I found of the Orl in Eorzea, and to ask your blessing for Nijoh’ir and myself to be welcomed into the Himaa camp for some time. His brother, as well, when he arrives. I vouch for their character- Nijoh'ir knows the language, Ra is learning.> _”

Baatu chuckled, “ _ <Amasar if I were to even entertain the notion of casting you out, the Himaa would have your mother as Khatun before the sun could next rise. You and both your companions are welcome among us. Now, what did you find?> _”

Retelling the fate of the Orl was not something Amasar enjoyed. Oh, he’d sent the message with the postmoogle once he’d learned their fate- but that had been when he and Sid had planned to send off their souls, so that the Himaa may help usher them back home. He hadn’t given the details, and it pained his uncle as much as it pained him when he learned from Sid.

Still, Baatu let him finish his tale, and nodded, “ _ <someday you should bring this Sidurgu back to the Steppe. We’re not meant to be alone.> _”

“ _ <I’ll see what I can do,> _ ” Amasar began, a frown pulling at his features, “ _ <but he’s not alone. He has Fray and Reille, and though they’re not xaela they’re as much members of the Orl as he is. They’re the family he chose, I certainly believe it counts.> _”

Baatu nodded, " _ <still, it would be good for him to see his homeland in his living memory,> _ " with that, the Khan of the Himaa stood, " _ <there is, however, dinner to see to. With such short notice we can't properly welcome you back, but we will eat well tonight either way.> _"

Amasar beams, " _ <it'll be nice to have some home cooked meals as they're meant to be! There are only so many substitutions you can do with spices from across the sea,> _ " he turns to Nijoh'ir, " _ <c'mon, let's go introduce you to more of the tribe!> _"

Nijoh'ir smiled at Amasar's evident mirth, nodding his assent. Amasar slipped out the yurt, the miqo'te moving to follow before turning back to the Khan and bowing, " _ <thank you for welcoming me into your home.> _"

Baatu strides over and claps a hand on Nijoh'ir's shoulder, " _ <let's not stand on ceremony. That Amasar would bring you here means you're one of us. Perhaps sending him across the sea made him more open to outsiders, but he has always been wary. Go, meet the rest of us, and know you are welcome.> _"

* * *

Dinner made Nijoh'ir understand Amasar's sadness over spices when he cooked in Eorzea, and appreciate how he tried and would warn "that it wasn't how this was supposed to taste" when he presented it. He could see where Amasar's version had been missing in flavor, and knew when- if? when?- they left the Steppe they'd have to make certain to stock up on spice before they go. Amasar was practically purring as he ate, his mother urging the two of them to eat more as they did. She wasn't the only one trying to foist more food on them, the other parents _tsk_ ing their displeasure at just how little the two ate.

The extensive family (and rest of the tribe beside) was present, and everyone introduced themselves to Nijoh'ir. The many twins, identical or otherwise, were very easy to get confused, so Amasar tried his best to help give ways he could tell the twins apart- which pair was which, and so on. Thankfully he’d grown up with Li and Sae

Nijoh'ir also learned why Amasar called Baatu's son, Khaidai, a halgai herder. Naturally, he learns this as Amasar tells Khaidai's twins the story. Dorgene had to keep the man from trying to throttle Amasar, his cousin laughing at Khaidai's distress when his daughter ran up to him and lovingly called him a halgai herder.

Amasar really did have to run from the red xaela after that, the toddlers babbling about their dad and halgai.

Soon enough the revelry had faded, mornings came early in the Steppe and Ra had linkpearled Nijoh'ir that he would be at Reunion a bell or so after dawn. From there Amasar and Nijoh’ir bowed out, returning to Amasar’s parent’s yurt and falling asleep almost as soon as they hit the mattress.

Waking up with the dawn wasn't uncommon, but hearing his parents so close brought a warm happiness to Amasar's heart. Amasar and Nijoh'ir were used to waking up half sprawled over each other, but they couldn't slide back into sleep when Ra needed to be retrieved from Reunion.

Once she knew the two were rousing, they did have Ghoa cooing over how much she enjoyed having sons back in her yurt as she plied them with travel rations. The two meandered back through the camp, greetings called out throughout the tribe as the night watch went to get some rest and the bulk of the tribe began their day.

Amasar and Nijoh'ir were far from the only ones to arrive at the horse pen, nor would they be the last. The two got a few questions about their mounts, but _especially_ on the chocobos- particularly once Nijoh'ir mentioned (and Amasar verified in all seriousness) they were essentially the horses of Eorzea.

"They can cart things? As well as a dzo or horse," the question was asked with incredulity, a couple of the Himaa around nodding with varying expressions of disbelief.

Amasar nodded, "they can. They also can learn magic."

That really got the attention of the warriors around them, "magic? The birds?"

Nijoh'ir nodded, "yeah, one sec," he began, brow furrowing as he shifted from his soul gem to his carpentry. Sunflight looked at him curiously before _kweh_ ing in concern as his owner shifted to dark knight, the concerned yellow and blue chocobos immediately beginning to cast healing spells on the miqo'te.

The Himaa in attendance were quite impressed, questions beginning once more. Attention from the birds only stolen when Oki and Fenrir began getting too antsy, the drake's mouth flaring up as she grumbled.

Amasar pet her snout as he and Nijoh'ir made sure the chocobos were saddled and ready before mounting the drake and hound respectively. They waved to the warriors and spurred the beasts off, chocobos following right behind them.

Getting back to Reunion is easy once you know the way, and so they hit town faster than they had left it. There the purple miqo'te stood, speaking with the Dazkar who sold her husband's incredible buuz. 

"Morning, Ra," Amasar greeted, immediately getting sidetracked by the buuz and a growl from his stomach.

The keeper in question blinked at the change in the au ra's energy and demeanor before smiling, "morning Amasar, Nijoh'ir. Nice of you to come and get me. If only there was a way I could have gotten here and met up with you faster," he teased, pointedly looking at the chocobos at the front gates.

Amasar handed both brothers some dzo buuz, "you're welcome to borrow Ayde," Amasar offered. He takes a moment to take a bite before he continues, "just make sure you can keep him from running off and fighting everything if you do."

Nijoh'ir and Ra both grimaced, Ayde was usually a calm chocobo when it came to strangers, but the bird suffered a complete personality shift when it came to non-spoken races and was almost single-minded in his desire to eliminate them (but he did like the beast tribes Amasar and Nijoh'ir aligned themselves with).

“Hard pass,” Ra settled on, “if the entirety of the Maelstrom couldn’t get that bird to come back after you transferred to the Adders I don’t think I could get him to stop.”

Amasar chuckled, it had been amusing to see them try if nothing else. For all that he had trained his bird to be a white mage, Ayde proved repeatedly that he wouldn’t let such trivial things as the spoken race’s “hippocratic oath” stop him.

Amasar shrugged, “then I can’t help you. Either of you want anything else while we’re here? Not that long of a trip, but I don’t know when the last time you ate was, Ra.”

Nijoh’ir and Ra both looked down at the buuz Amasar had given them, Nijoh’ir about to comment before stopping and thinking, “actually, there was the one merchant who we helped? He had something that sounded pretty good.”

Amasar tilted his head before nodding, “oh yeah, the pumpkin one?”

“That’s the one, yeah!”

“Wait wait, there’s someone with pumpkin this far east?”

“That’s what I said, but he does,” Nijoh’ir replied to his brother, the group heading to the booth in question to see if the man still had some in stock.

As luck would have it, Baidur did, in fact, still have the dish in question. He was still grateful for the help they had offered the day before, his sales had certainly improved with their approach, and he was more than willing to offer a discount in return.

Then they were off again, Ayde following the mounted few and kept close. They were back to the Himaa camp in about a bell at the pace they set, and then more introductions were had. Ra was introduced to everyone, shown whose yurt was whose (“This is my parent’s yurt. We’ll be sleeping here. This is my cousin’s yurt. I’ll be causing chaos here”), and then he was taken to meet the Khan.

Once more Amasar lead in the miqo’te, and again Khaidai shook his head, but left without prompting. Amasar, Nijoh’ir, and Ra watched him leave, “he could actually stay this time,” Amasar mused once he was gone, “but I’m not going to complain.”

Baatu laughed, a booming sound that had both miqo’te flinching and tails fluffing, and shook his head, “ _ <I suppose you wouldn’t.> _ Introduce us, Amasar,” he chuckled, gesturing to Ra.

Amasar nodded, “Khan, this is Nijoh’ra, older brother of Nijoh’ir,” the miqo’te both pulled a bit of a face at that, but Amasar continued, “that’s what their names mean, which sons of Nijoh they are. Ra, this is the Khan of the Himaa- my uncle, Baatu.”

The purple men both nodded at one another, “family of Amasar’s is family of the rest, Khan is a title that I do not make family use. I am _ <uncle> _ Baatu, or _ <uncle> _.”

“Thank you, _ <uncle> _,” Ra says, Amasar beaming when his pronunciation was spot on.

Baatu grinned, nodding when he turned back to Amasar, “ _ <they are already welcome, you know this. Will they be joining you at Bardam’s Mettle?> _”

Nijoh’ir’s ear twitched, “what’s Bardam’s Mettle?”

Amasar looked to the miqo’te, “Bardam’s Mettle is the rite of passage every xaela who wishes to be a Warrior of the Steppe must go through. Your proof is a Yol companion- usually through the mutual respect given in all-out combat.”

“You’re very much a warrior of the Steppe, though, Amasar? Why run it again?”

“Some warriors run the Mettle many times,” Baatu pointed out, “Nhaama permitting, a warrior will outlive a Yol that dies by natural causes. Each time is as much a trial as the first, and those who may succeed once may fail on the next.” 

Amasar nods, “assuming you live and aren’t maimed permanently, you can try as many times as you need, once you’re a warrior. Usually if you fail trying to become a warrior the first time and you don’t die, you can be mauled which doesn’t help your chances for another attempt. Either way, that’s decided by a tribe by tribe basis”

Nijoh’ir and Ra look at him incredulously, “you and Bulqadar ran this _how_ many years ago?”

“We were,” he mused, drawing out the ‘R’ as he thought, “21? I think. So seven...ish years.”

Nijoh’ir and Ra leveled a blank look at him, “you’re not going alone,” they said in unison. Nijoh’ir’s ears flicking in annoyance as he continued, “ _especially_ not with Hien’s idea.”

Amasar raised his hands in a placating gesture, “in my defense,” he soothed, “I did run it by myself. We just didn’t go alone to it.”

The stony looks from the miqo’te did not abate.

Amasar hangs his head, “I appreciate the concern, but there’s a lot more at stake here,” he gestures to his uncle who nods, having been watching the interaction.

“You explain to them,” Baatu began, “ _ <if they wish to run they have my blessing as Khan,> _” he turned to look at the Gridanians specifically, “just know you would join as Himaa, and be welcomed.”

Amasar nods, ushering his friends out and leading them to where the horses and chocobos (and hoarhound and cavalry drake) were. Finding the mare from the day before, Amasar picked up a brush and started brushing her, “to be a warrior is… it’s a commitment. Way of life. We follow the wisdom and instruction of our Khan, and Khagan above all. Khan doesn’t change regularly, but Khagan… Khagan could change any year. Some are better than others, but as the strongest they have earned our respect and obedience. If the Khagan asks us to do something, we must. This is our way.”

He pauses to pet the mare’s nose before looking to the miqo’te, “Magnai is a fair Khagan, he does not abuse his title. He has made some… interesting decisions,” he mused, vividly remembering the time he had to escort some of the women of his tribe to the Dawn Throne (and the fight that ensued between Magnai and Sadu. That sure was something), “but he is good at what he does.

“Hien wishes to become Khagan, lead us as pawns in his war. He has imposed on the Mol, but learned little if he means to spur them into the Naadam. That their gods may have agreed is one thing, but the tribe… To be the tribe of the Khagan is to be under scrutiny. To be tested, weighed, measured- you are held to some invisible standard by all tribes. He does not know this, he does not know what the Mol as the leaders may spur. The Mol do not usually desire the position- they will let the tribes be as they have, but…” he shakes his head, “I don’t see the Mol winning ending well. I will stop him, and a Yol only makes getting to the oovoo easier. That’s why I go back to Berdam’s Mettle, but you two are not required to commit to this by any means.”

“Well, fuck,” Nijoh’ir says after a minute, “how can I not help when this much is on the line.”

Amasar hung his head and groaned, “Nijoh’ir, I just _specifically_ said you don’t have to.”

“And yet here I am, ready to run Bardam’s Mettle and kick Hien’s ass.”

"I'm coming too, Nijoh'ir's right. Plus I'm not just going to sit back and let the two of you run off. Three chances are better than none."

Nijoh’ir looked at his brother with a grin, "better than two even."

"Shut up," Ra demanded as he bumps his brother’s shoulder, the two batting at each other while Amasar looks on fondly.

“Thank you, you two,” the xaela says in all sincerity, “you don’t have to, but that you would…”

“We’re family, of course we will,” Nijoh’ir states as he disengages from Ra, “besides, I’ve wanted to punch Hien since he opened his mouth.”

Ra nodded sagely, the effect lessened somehow thanks to his disheveled hair, “so, how do we go about taming this Mol?”

“Mol is a tribe, Yol is a bird. Usually you earn their respect through combat…”

Nijoh’ir raised a brow, knowing that tone, “but?”

“But you can probably gain the favor of a Yol in other ways,” Amasar mused, tapping the scales on his chin as he started planning, “just know you may need to fight in the end- they do eat people.”

“They what now.”


	2. A Test of Mettle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bardam's Mettle is run, and a summons are issued.
> 
> Chores short to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, if you like Hien this is probably hitting the point of "maybe you won't like what you read"
> 
> As always, Nijoh'ir and Ra belong to [MooncatEclipse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfgrowl/pseuds/MooncatEclipse)!
> 
> And now prepare yourselves for some really headcanon-fueled material because my love for the Steppe is vast and deep and I have a **_lot_** of feelings about it.

After spending the bulk of the day planning on how to confront Bardam’s Mettle (Amasar could only give so much guidance considering whatever lived in the Mettle tended to be fluid), they had a more grand dinner than the night before (for one, warriors-to-be were going to Bardam’s Mettle in the morning and it would be bad form to send them off hungry, for another they had another guest. That both of these guests would try to be warriors of the Himaa was an added plus), and then there were even _more_ miqo’te questions. 

And of course there were stories- tales of warriors long past and their heroic deeds. Their history, the wins, the losses, of Azim, of Nhaama- tales until the moon was rising high in the sky.

Amasar ushered the miqo’te to bed- tomorrow would be long and leave them bone-weary, but likely successful. The three wound up piling into bed together, falling asleep in a tangle of limbs and covers with much purring and kneading.

The morning woke them with the scent of cooking, Ghoa minding the stove in the middle of the yurt and humming. Masgud was already absent, but Amasar leveraged himself out of bed all the same, leaving Nijoh’ir and Ra to snuggle into the warmth of the covers and sleep a little longer. The xaela smiled when he noticed what his mother was making, “ _ <same as when Bulqadar and I ran it last, then?> _”

Ghoa nods as she keeps her focus on the meal, “ _ <it’s what my mother made for us any time we ran Bardam’s Mettle, and if your father ever chose to run again I would make it for him. It has only ever brought us luck, and I wish to give you however many blessings we can.> _”

Amasar smiles, turning to look where Nijoh’ir and Ra lay beneath blankets and a faint purring could be heard, “ _ <I think they’ll appreciate the sentiment. I thought dad vowed never to get another yol? Noykin roots and all that,> _” Amasar asked, waving his hand at the last bit.

Ghoa nodded, “ _ <that he did, and I respect his choice. He is also allowed to change his mind if he wishes.> _”

Amasar nods, “ _ <fair enough,> _” he agreed.

Since he had some time, the weaver reaches for his bag and pulls out the project he had been working on- a two-sided bandersnatch pelt blanket. The vivid yellow and red of the fur drew his mother’s gaze, brows lifting, “ _ <what manner of beast is that from,> _” she asked with not a small amount of curiosity.

“ _ <Bandersnatch,> _ ” Amasar explains, beginning his needlework, “ _ <like baras, but a little bigger. Have to be, to contend with Dravanians.> _”

“W’bout Dravanians,” Ra piped up from where he slunk out of bed, the purple miqo’te plopping onto the stool next to Amasar and leaning against the blue man.

Amasar smiled down at the dozing miqo’te, “talking about bandersnatch, from the forelands.”

Ra hummed a noise of understanding, but did little than sit and kneed quietly at the portion of blanket Amasar placed in his lap. Nijoh’ir finally freed himself from the bed not long after, but was a little more alert than his brother.

Plates in hand the small group had breakfast, Amasar idly chatting with his mother as the miqo'te shifted from just being present into being accounted for.

Breakfast finished and one final good luck given (a forehead kiss and horn rubs from his parents had always given him reassurance he could do whatever task was ahead of him), Nijoh'ir and Ra applied their hunting paint and the group was off- two chocobos and a hoarhound heading to Bardam's Mettle.

The talk along the way was somewhat sparse, mostly a few final questions about the Mettle, what creatures could be found there, and what he had encountered when he ran it with Bulqadar.

"Biggest Surprise was that a muu shuwuu had migrated that far in," Amasar was finishing explaining when they arrived, "they usually don't leave the cliffs by the House of the Crooked Coin, so they're unlikely this time around."

Dismounting they approached the entrance to the Mettle. Nothing ornate and extravagant, the biggest indication of its significance the banners and cloth that line the area.

Taking a deep breath, Amasar looked from one miqo'te to the other, "I know you're doing this to help me, and I am grateful. However," he began, tone shifting to a warning, "if you get in over your head, the beasts overwhelm, or otherwise you cannot continue forward, there is no shame in leaving. You are my friends and this is not something I'd want you dying over. There is wisdom in living to fight another day."

The brothers nodded, ears flicking as they searched the landscape. Aside from the odd Khun Chuluu, the trio were relatively alone- though he understood that the miqo’te felt exposed without any tree coverage.

With that, the trio walked to the entrance- for all the banners that blew around the Ceol Aen, the entrance to Bardam’s Mettle was only signified by a few ropes that would bar only the most easily deterred. The glory and might of the Mettle was known to all who would face it, and it needed no additional pomp or splendor.

Amasar smiled at Nijoh’ir and Ra as they slipped under the ropes he held up for them. Should all go according to plan, their reasons for this would be needless, and the two could spend their lives in Eorzea without the Steppe’s duties lying on their shoulders. Given how both miqo’te brother’s ears twitched, and they looked over their shoulders before hustling, it seems their timing was somewhat fortuitous.

Perhaps this _would_ be in their favor.

* * *

Well. They didn’t die. That was definitely a good start.

And despite Bardam’s gambit putting them through their paces, the three of them walked away with little more than bruising to mar their endeavor. The group met up outside the mettle one by one, scuffed but smiling. Ayde, Sunflight, and Fenrir all waited for their riders to return patiently, the blue chocobo slightly less so as he went to bump the lime-green swordsman.

Amasar chuckled at the bird’s insistence, but once Ra and Nijoh’ir joined him he gave a toothy grin, “you gave them the parting whistle, then?”

Both miqo’te nodded, purple and red in unison that only siblings could accomplish. Amasar tilted his head back and whistled a high, reedy, long, and strong note that had both miqo'te's ears flicking backward at. He smiled apologetically at them, it was more traditional to carve a whistle if you didn't have a unique whistled pattern you'd worked on, but… this one would be different. The cracked whistle he carried said as much.

The answering screech from the Yol he met at the end of the Mettle brought a smile to his face, the purple bird slicing through the sky, diving to hover in midair by the xaela. With a dramatic flap, it perched on one of the stray outcroppings around the Mettle, Ayde’s mood souring as a potential foe entered within striking range. 

Looking from Amasar to the chocobo to the Miqo'te, the Yol's gaze settled on the xaela, watching intently. He smiled up at the avian, rummaging through his pack and pulling out some jerky for her. She took the jerky in a flash, the meat disappearing down her throat in moments and the Yol nudging at his shoulder looking for more.

" _< Easy, Nergüi, easy,> _" he soothed, petting and semi-preening her shoulder feathers, "< _more later, > _" he looked back to the miqo'te, beaming, "go ahead and try!"

Nijoh’ir smiled, one that twisted slightly more teasing as his tail flicked with mirth, “oh you actually named this one,” he teased, taking advantage of Amasar’s squawking to pull out the whistle he’d carved the night before and playing a tune. Amasar wasn’t surprised his musically gifted friend had taken that route, and the Yol’s swift response seemed to him that his red friend had found a companion enamored by said ability. Nijoh’ir grinned, ears and tail wiggling with delight as the yol whistles the tune back to him. Respectfully raising a hand, he ran his fingers through the yol’s feathers after she pushed her beak into his touch, “Daca,” Nijoh’ir hummed, taking a snack of his own out to treat the new addition.

Ra looked from one to the other, looking down to the whistle he’d carved in his hand, nodding and taking a deep breath before blowing a swift series of varied notes. Amasar somewhat recognized it, in the sense that he recognized when Nijoh’ir and Ra used huntspeak, but the meaning he wasn’t familiar with to catch. Still, the purple miqo’te’s yol did not have this problem, the bird answering with a cry of its own before it joined the party on the ground. Ra looked up at the bird that towered over the group, which softly crooned and started trying to preen Ra’s braids. His ears flicked and he softly redirected the bird’s attention to treats he also had prepared, stroking her neck feathers as she delicately snagged the meat. “Senah,” he mused, the Yol looking back at him curiously before going back to the enticing treats he held.

Amasar was beaming. For all that had happened, this truly was a moment of sheer _joy_ for him. He knew this was finally getting a chance to pick up from where he’d dropped everything. To move on, to grow-

“Oh. Uh, hey guys,” Lyse’s voice cut through his inner musings, and Amasar’s heart fell an ilm. Even she couldn’t- “d’you come around to Hien’s plan, then,” she asked, approaching the group.

Amasar sometimes wondered what having ears like Nijoh’ir’s would be like. How emotive they were, how they added a new level of language and expression to what was said.

He was certain any proverbial ears would be pinned back at that comment, given Nijoh'ir's had and Ra looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

Amasar forced his tone to be neutral when he replied, "no, just readjusting to being home. Speaking of," he continued, talking over her attempt to cut in, "we should head back, you two."

The Miqo'te nodded, apparently neither of them wanting to further that conversation more than they had to. All three climbed their Yol, the massive birds looking at their smaller mount companions before leaping into the air to soar off. They left Lyse looking on in confusion as the more terrestrial followed dutifully behind the flying warriors, but Amasar needed to start the crash course on Yol care, either way.

It was when they were back at the Himaa camp not too long after that when the messengers from the Oronir and Buduga approached.

Khaidai approached the group that had settled on the fringe of the encampment, "what," he hissed, coming to stand at his cousin's side in the face of these two tribes, "did you _do_!?"

Amasar blinked calmly, looking at the son of the Khan with a carefully stoic face, "would you like the list by order of importance or from oldest to most recent?"

Nijoh'ir and Ra each stifled a chuckle as the elder of the two _seethed_ , unable to make any final quips as the approaching warriors landed a respectful distance from the camp and crossed towards it.

Amasar kept his eyes on the newcomers, the warriors strode with confidence truly, and one afforded to them Amasar would admit readily. The blue Himaaa warrior vaguely recognized the Oroniri warrior, but he wasn’t confident enough to give a name to the face.

Khaidai stepped toward the group, " _< not every day do the Oronir or Buduga make a journey to visit the Himaa, let alone both.> _"

The Oronir looked from the the xaela of the group to the miqo'te, "the Naadam is swiftly approaching," the child of Azim said, "and the most Radiant Brother has been seeking capable warriors to join us."

Amasar looked from his Yol to the unfamiliar warriors, "the Himaa have vouched for these two, and by Bardam they have proven themselves." That they were not to be recruited was unsaid but understood by all xaela in attendance, especially with the look his cousin shot at him- though he did nod in agreement. 

The Himaa would fight to keep their new warriors, and these three outsiders knew that the Himaa were vastly different from the Kahkol or Mol in terms of combat prowess. This was not a fight to have, nor could they win as they were.

Instead the Oronir nodded, "those who have cleared Bardam's Mettle are welcome as warriors of the Steppe, but there were others that also completed the Mettle this day. Do the Himaa vouch for them as well?"

"Hyur, about my height," Nijoh'ir asked before rattling off, "yellow outfit opened to show off his entire chest? Black, bushy hair, obnoxious, samurai?

"Traveling with another hyur, a woman also about my height? Blonde hair, red dress, punchy? Lastly with a Roegadyn, great mountain of a man, old, also a samurai?"

Baatu nodded, and all three said in unison, "never met them."

The Oronir looked distinctly unimpressed, "you're being summoned to the Dawn Throne regardless. They claimed to know you, and we saw the Himaa colors as we approached."

"Who exactly is summoning us," Amasar asked, the other xaela looking at him and raising a brow.

"The Khagan of the Steppe, Magnai."

"Ah," Amasar said, nodding, "it is our duty to comply, then. Right," he mused, turning to climb onto his Yol as Nijoh'ir and Ra followed suit, "shall we?"

Ra tilted his head, "shouldn't we tell Baatu?"

The Oroniri warrior tilted his head in confusion, "I'm right here-"

Amasar waved his hand, "nah, the Halgai herder is around-"

One of the Buduga turned, almost impressed, "you herded-"

The red xaela snarled, " _I DID NOT-"_

"-besides, this is good bonding time with your new partners."

The miqo’te nodded, and though he cursed Khaidai did nod his assent, “I will tell my father you have been summoned,” with a sigh, he continued, “and don’t embarrass us, Amasar.”

The blue of the two gave a toothy grin, “when have I _ever_ done **_anything_ **like that, cousin?”

The red man shook his head, tossing his hands in the air as he walked away grumbling, “he’s going to make the Oronir declare war on us. The Himaa are done. It’s been nice...”

The Oronir and the Buduga looked from one to the other, each awkwardly wondering what they had just gotten involved with, but the new warriors were mounting their yol and that was what mattered.

The Oronir lead the way back to the Dawn Throne, Nijoh’ir and Ra getting a chance to marvel at the structure up close as their yol made to land on the wooden platforms. 

Xaela clad in bright yellow and the deeper green watching the lime green man with miqo’te. One of the younger xaela pointed curiously at the tails and ears of Nijoh’ir and Ra, asking a question to the cook beside him- the older xaela patiently answering the child as he prepared what was to be dinner.

Other children were also watching the group curiously, some commenting about how these foreigners also didn’t wear the same colors, others wondering what the Himaa had to do with all this, and other still wondering if the shorter two’s tails were soft, and did you * _see_ * their * _ears move_ *?!

Ra and Nijoh’ir ears and tails showed how aware and ready they became for any sign of combat when lead into the building that housed the dawn throne. Amasar kept his head straight and eyes forward, there was no honor or glory in fighting an enemy merely following orders. He couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped him when their group was merged with Lyse, Gosetsu, and Hien outside the door to the throne room. Baatu passed between them all, leveling a careful look at the group before he announced to the group, “not many are honored by being summoned by the most Radiant Brother. You will conduct yourself with propriety in Magnai’s presence. Or face consequences.”

Amasar nodded, Magnai was Khagan- he was afforded every respect the position demanded. Besides, he was a good leader- not just a strong one. Upsetting him needlessly would be folly.

Baatu leveled an unimpressed look at the other half of the party, the hyur and roegadyn watching him equally wary. Opening the doors, Baatu lead the groups in, Amasar putting himself between Ra, Nijoh’ir, and the rest of the group as a lime dividing line of sorts. The Oronir stood before his Khan and Khagan, “most radiant brother Magnai. We have brought the ones you seek,” he gestured to the groups behind him, and the Buduga who had trailed in behind the group. Amasar noted they eyed the miqo’te and the doman prince with interest and he couldn’t help but roll his eyes- of course they did.

The Khan of the Oronir Amasar had seldom seen up close. Given during the Naadam he usually covered for Bulqadar, the two had done their best to stay relatively away from the thick of it until the ranks had thinned- and none thinned the ranks more efficiently than Magnai. Still, for how little yellow he wore- most of it being in his hair, that was not what marked the man before him as Oronir. No, it was the eyes that looked * _through*_ their group, yellow as the sun which truly marked the xaela before them as the most radiant brother. This was the leader of the Oronir, and as he assessed the line of warriors before him he paused on the Himaa half of the room.

Amasar felt his gaze linger on the Himaa’s green, taking an additional moment to assess the miqo’te he kept distinct from the rest of the foreigners. He couldn’t see the two’s reactions very well, his horns efficient blind spots, but he knew Nijoh’ir and Ra stood tall under the scrutiny.

The Khan before them finally spoke, and he heard a small noise from Ra at it, “you conquered Bardam’s Mettle,” a statement, not a question.

“As warriors of the Mol,” Amasar made a noise at that, but was ignored, “aye. You are the Khan here, yes?" Hien asked, Amasar watching warily as he continued, "why have you summoned us? Mayhap to propose a joint endeavor?"

Amasar looked at the hyur with no small amount of disbelief, turning to look back at the _Khagan of the Steppe_ when he replied "nay, Doman. We will not speak as equals. Born of the Sun are the Oronir, and born of the earth are you."

The Khan's eyes carefully slid over the groups, “when I learned of the trespassers, I bade my warriors take their measure," he stated very simply, his gaze settling on the hyur when he continued, "to flay them if they failed."

Nijoh'ir and Ra's ears folded back at that, Amasar humming a low, reassuring note. Amasar would not have taken such an order sitting down, nor would the Himaa take kindly to such treatment. While not a particularly ambitious tribe, the Himaa were nothing to sniff at in battle.

"But," Magnai continued, his gaze shifting to settle on the Himaa side of the room, "if by the grace of Azim they should survive their trials and emerge anointed, then bring them hither to pay tribute.

"Tribute, should it prove satisfactory, shall earn you the favor of the Sun. His beloved shall bask in his radiance, and their supplications be duly considered," the Khagan of the Steppe finished.

Amasar nodded in acceptance, though a bit verbose he didn't force them to do anything past what was his due as the leader of the Steppe, should he desire it. In all honesty, it was quite reasonable, considering- “so you want us to bow down and serve you,” Lyse cut through Amasar’s musings, her eyes narrowed and tone ringing of distaste. Amasar, Nijoh’ir, and Ra all visibly sighed as she charged ahead, “what if we don’t feel like it?”

Magnai’s expression remained one of cool indifference, though Amasar could see the glint of annoyance in his gaze. He could feel Baatu watching their half of the group while Magnai addressed the woman’s concern, “the defiant will suffer in the shadow. It would be an affront to the resplendent Azim himself to refuse this generous offer when by rights you should be condemned,” he explained, “but, in lieu of tribute…

“Swear fealty to the Sun. Pledge to him your body and soul. Promise to serve him unto death, and you may know his glory,” he stated, though the corner of his mouth did quirk upward into a grin, “a generous offer granted to but few… though perchance this is too merciful.”

Ra made another strained noise, one that caught Baatu and Daidukul’s attentions. The former watched the purple miqo’te curiously, the latter took one look, grinned knowingly, and turned to speak to Magnai. His voice was hushed, but Ra and Nijoh’ir’s ears pricked forward to catch it, both of their gazes settling on Hien and brows raised.

Magnai turned to address the collective before him, “hm. It seems our brothers of the Buduga want you. The men only. Like the Borlaaq and women- though you know them not either, I am sure,” Amasar’s lips tugged into a slight frown, but otherwise he remained silent. He knew he was not being addressed, but this did make him wonder how his aunts in the Borlaaq were doing, and how their daughter was growing- “no matter. All you need know is that you will serve, one way or another.”

Nijoh’ir and Ra nodded, it made sense. Twelve knew that Amasar and Nijoh’ir had both been stuck doing more inane tasks for the city states or grand companies for lesser reasons.

“That much does indeed seem plain,” Hien began, Amasar unable to keep his sigh inaudible this time as he rolled his eyes at the Doman prince opening his mouth. Gosetsu looked at Amasar disapprovingly, but Baatu had to smother a chuckle at how tired the Himaa looked at the Doman, “however, as we are but newborn warriors who know little of your customs-”

“ _ <Perhaps they should have learned more before they thought to challenge Bardam’s Mettle> _” Amasar mumbled, Nijoh’ir making a noise of agreement that earned them both a sharp look from Gosetsu and a confused one from Lyse.

Nevertheless Hien continued, “we struggle to conceive of ways in which we might be of service to the most gracious and illustrious Sun,” his tone went from bland to one of sarcasm, the temperature of the room dropping drastically as all xaela in attendance looked at him with stony disapproval.

Magnai’s impassive expression had dimmed to one of contempt and promised rage, “you make mock of us, Doman. Do not do so again.”

Magnai took a breath, his face smoothing back out into disinterest, “you will be given a task. It will be difficult. You will carry it out. When you have accepted this, you may ask me what it is.”

To the side, they hear the hyur and roegadyn grumble, Lyse starting with, “I know, I know, I probably should’ve left the talking to everyone else…”

Hien made a soft noise before replying, “pretentious and preening he may be, but doubt not that he is a warrior. You saw the axe by the throne… and the rage in his eyes.” 

Amasar couldn’t help looking at the Doman with exasperated disbelief, dryly stating, “it’s almost as if you challenged the man you assumed fealty to. That the responsibility you gained when you ran Bardam’s Mettle was being ignored, and the leader of our people responded accordingly to your slight.”

Hien looked mildly shocked, but it was Gosetsu who spoke up, “favor, tribute… how easily the language of tyrants tumbles from the khan’s lips.”

Baatu bristled where he stood, Daidukul as well, but it was the Himaa’s bark that stopped the Doman Prince and the Samurai, “ _enough_. You call him a tyrant for our way once more and you will not make it back to Doma. You speak as though you are being gravely wronged instead of mildly inconvenienced, but you are _Warriors of the Steppe_. The Khagan asks of you and you listen, **_that is our way_**. If you could not handle being asked to complete a menial task, how could the Khagan count on you in battle? I have been asked to do _far_ _worse_ for less,” Amasar said, making eye contact with Lyse who at least had the decency to look away, “how arrogant and presumptuous you must be that being asked to do a mere chore is to be a tyrant.”

Magnai’s attention shifted to the Himaa, asking simply, “and what is the Himaa’s involvement in this.”

"The Himaa's stake in this was we wished to welcome new warriors, particularly those in face of outside threat."

That had Magnai and Daidukul's attention, and those of the group as well. The Khagan of the Steppe leaned forward once more, "and what threat would this be?" 

Amasar jerked his head back to the Doman Prince, "him." 

Immediately the room's hyur and roegadyn inhabitants protested, Amasar freely responding with venom. 

Magnai snarled, " _enough_ ," before turning back to the Himaa, "explain." 

"He wished to become a warrior only to fight in the Naadam. He wishes to win and then use us as a personal army to liberate Doma from the Garlean occupation." 

Magnai raised a brow somewhat incredulous, "you think he could win? Against-" 

" _ <Respectfully, Khagan, I'd rather stop him myself than risk anything. Though he does not wear their colors, he has sided with the Mol. Their gods allow them to participate this year, but what of the next? Clearly he does not have the foresight to think what will happen to his country should those he is not aligned with win.> _ I would rather not fight his battles for him, when he has sought refuge on the Steppe as opposed to facing this foe. His reasoning was respectable in that he would not make his people fight a fight they did not wish, but he has not thought to extend the same courtesy to us."

"The Garlean threat cannot be ignored, Amasar," Lyse states, voice shaking with emotion, "you _know_ they cannot be ignored." 

"I don't wish to ignore them," Amasar rebuts, anger rippling across his aether, "I have no love for them or what they have done to our own, but the reasons you detest them and what you plan to do to us? I see little difference. An order from the Khagan is law. You would take all you could, and leave behind those who could not. What if the Garleans split their attention? They come to the Steppe? You would leave us with children and elderly to defend our entire homeland. Tell me, Lyse, Hien," the xaela warrior made eye contact with the two hyur, “where have you heard _that_ before.”

Finally they are silent, and Magnai is pensive. After finding the silence, Baatu chimes in from the side, "what do you mean when you say the Garleans have harmed our own?"

The tension drops from Amasar's frame, the man sagging, "the Orl, Baatu." 

That got everyone's attention, even bringing confusion to Nijoh'ir's face. With a sigh, Amasar begins, "the Orl as most of the Steppe knew them were a tribe that had settled further into Othard, becoming carpenters and trading with tribes for lumber for their yurts. The Garlean occupation drove them to flee, which was a loss to all xaela." 

Magnai and Daidukul nod, it was known among all tribes that the scarcity of wood these last years had been costly, Orl lumber was highly coveted and eagerly scavenged from tribes that fall. 

"What was unknown was that they drove the Orl across the sea," Amsar continues, the miqo'te in the room swiftly realizing where this was going, "my mother sent me to go find them, to tell my aunt her twin was dying, to bring her home so she may see her one final time. My aunt had wanted to ask if she would take the children in.

"I was unaware I would find that only one of the Orl had survived. The only au ra in a country that thought us little more than beasts. The Garleans may not have slain our kin, but they set them up for slaughter."

The blue man looked to the ground with a grimace, "the Orl had been gone for over a decade, and only this year were they able to receive a proper burial. To finally be sent off respectfully." 

"So yes," Amasar looks back to Magnai, "I have no love for the Garleans. I have less so for those who would seek to do the same over us, call us savages, and honestly believe they are better than the invaders they wish to use us to drive away. _That_ is this Himaa's involvement in this, Khagan."

Nijoh’ir looks at his best friend sadly, walking over to the other Warrior of Light and bunting his shoulder reassuringly.

The Khagan of the Steppe looked from the xaela to his red and purple counterparts, “and your stake in this?”

Ra stepped forward, "I've seen what those who believe others to be savages and beneath them can do." He gave a small nod to Nijoh'ir, "my brother's parents were killed by those who would kill feral poachers, savages, in order to defend their home." His ears pinned back and he swallowed, "when you hunt, you don't just watch the prey, you have to watch for things hunting you. The Garleans are a threat yes but I agree with Amasar. So is he."

Nijoh'ir muttered by Amasar’s side, "thank the twelve one of us can talk good." Amasar nodded in agreement, Ra had a way with words that the warriors of light were quite grateful for.

Yet before the blue man could say anything or step forward, Nijoh’ir’s bag gave a small shake. The warriors of light watched curiously as a tiny black furred head poppped out, a small _mew_ breaking the silence of the throne room. With a little wiggle the coeurl kit was free of the bag, and to Nijoh’ir’s cry of “ _Mischief!_ ” bouncing right up to Magnai.

The most radiant brother of the Oronir, the Khagan of the Steppe looked down at the kit, “brave you are to step forward first to take these tasks.”

The kit looked up at him with big, green eyes and mewed plaintively.

The Khan leaned forward, picking up the coeurl, “however, I doubt you have passed through Bardam’s Mettle. Thus you cannot accept these duties.”

Mischief purred in Magnai’s hands, idly batting at one of the Khagan’s braids.

The leader of the Oronir placed the kit on his lap, petting the black kitten as he curled up comfortably. Ra made a soft noise which had Amasar and Nijoh’ir looking at each other, the poor man had it _bad_.

Still, the three warriors from the Himaa stepped forward, Magnai observing them, “I see why Daidukul favors you,” he begins, Amasar’s eyes flicking to the leader of the Buduga before looking back at the Khagan, “the Naadam approaches, and the Oronir will reign supreme once more. Such is the will of Father Azim.

“Yet only fools think to triumph by the grace of gods alone- and we are not fools. Your task will be to aid us in preparation,” he decreed, gesturing to the side, “Baatu will tell you the rest.”

The three warriors nodded, Nijoh’ir looking down to where Mischief comfortably lay on Magnai’s lap. The Khan of the Oronir pet behind the kitten’s ear, “you may retrieve him once you’ve completed your task. No harm will come to him under the Sun’s protection.”

Nijoh’ir nodded before warning the Khan, “be careful, his name is Mischief for a reason.” So long as no harm came to the kitten and he got him back, he didn’t mind too terribly.

The three walked over to Baatu, the Oronir looking the group over. With a sigh, he asked, “what strengths can you bring to the Oronir,” his tone tired but optimistic.

Ra thought, ears flicking, “I’m good at healing? More with herbs, poultices, and potions than healing magic, though.”

Baatu nodded, turning to Nijoh’ir where the red keeper shrugged, “I’m good at hunting, but I’m used to forests. I’m very good at climbing and crafting, though?”

Baatu rubbed his chin, “how about swimming?”

The warrior of light beamed, “I enjoy swimming and am very good at it.”

Baatu nodded once more, turning to Amasar for the xaela so idly tap the hilt of his katana, “I’m good at mending, dressing kills, and cooking?”  
  
The Oronir looked at him strangely, but nodded nonetheless. Turning back to Ra, he began, “you will come with me, my wife is a healer and hands to help sort healing herbs are always appreciated. You,” turning to Nijoh’ir, “will go diving around the Dawn Throne. Retrieve the herbs that grow at the bottom, a good amount of each. My wife will tell you more what to look for. You,” he turned to look at Amasar, confusion flicking over his features, “you will aid our cook in preparing food to be stored. He will tell you what assistance he needs.”

The three from the Himaa nod, Baatu gesturing for them to step aside as the others from the group step forward.

Less care is given to the tasks for the hyur and roegadyn, the lilac xaela looking each of them over before stating a task for them to complete, much to their grumbling. The Oronir looked at the three from the Himaa, gesturing for them to follow as he walked out the doors of the Dawn Throne. Amasar felt Magnai’s gaze on their group as they filed out, the xaela keeping his posture relaxed and head high.

Baatu lead the three out of the Dawn Throne, stopping by a kind looking woman who peered up at the odd bunch from where she was sorting and sifting through a pile of herbs. The purple xaela smiled down, helping her stand as she grumbled and affectionately swatted at him, “Turakina, these two,” he began, gesturing to the miqo’te brothers, “will be assisting you.”

The xaela woman rolled her eyes, the green vivid against her rusty skin, “any help is appreciated, but I am not so delicate as Baatu seems to think I am.”

The purple man’s expression as soft as he leaned down to rub his horns against hers, Turakina’s annoyance fading and being replaced with soft fondness for her husband. Amasar felt a soft warmth in his heart, his gaze flicking to Nijoh’ir who looked back at him. They knew full well the feeling that Baatu and his wife shared, their respective other halves half a world away in Ishgard, keeping Coerthas safe from rogue dragons or rogue temple knights.

Ra smiled softly, tail swaying comfortably, “I understand where he’s coming from, the first few months of pregnancy are tricky.”

Baatu looked at the purple miqo’te with some shock, “you can tell?”

Nijoh’ir and Ra give him a somewhat confused look, “yeah? when my older sister got pregnant my moms rounded us all up and gave us some fun talks."

Turakina tilted her head at that, raising a brow, "oh?"

"Well about sex yeah but also birthing, assisting,” Ra rattled off, tail tip curving into a hook as he gestured that the list went on, “males typically don't _need_ to know, but it's good to know off hand."

Baatu nodded, Turakina smiling at the miqo’te, “good. Your mothers taught you well. Let’s see if you can’t be of use,” she teased, gesturing to the herbs before waving Baatu and Amasar off.

The purple man walked to a campfire where another purple xaela stood, the older of the three looking up at the two approaching warriors, “ _ <lunch isn’t ready yet, Baatu,> _ ” he warned with curiosity on his features, “ _ <but will be ready by noon, as usual.> _”

Baatu waved dismissively, “ _ <I know it would not be ready yet, but this warrior has been given the task of aiding you. Put him to use, Esugen,> _” Magnai’s right hand decreed before striding off to ensure the other three were completing their tasks.

Amasar looked at what Esugen had around him as the elder xaela looked at him curiously, “ _ <are you looking to cook bara or dzo with this? Do you have the meat prepared, or shall I?> _”

Esugen went to answer when there was a cry of a yol, and a wild dzo was dropped behind the cookfire, next to the edge of the Dawn Throne. The hunter waved from the back of the yol before flying his mount up to where the others lingered.

  
Amasar and Esugen looked from the dzo to how close the sun was to its zenith, the blue xaela sighing as he placed his blade aside, pulled off his gloves, and rolled up his sleeves, “ _ <right, then. Esugen, would you have any spare skinning knives? And what do you need first for your meal.> _”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amasar is _very_ opinionated when it comes to strangers coming into his homeland.
> 
> Also, if the throne scene looked similar and you kept up with [MooncatEclipse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfgrowl/pseuds/MooncatEclipse)'s Wonderous Tails, this is the gay crisis Ra was having in [To Gaze Upon the Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24067192)!
> 
> Also [here is more on my Orl headcanon](https://amasarbulqasar.tumblr.com/post/190444251151/) and regrettably you're stuck with the chaos my brain makes, we've diverged from canon and are off roading lads


End file.
